


The light and darkness of our thoughts

by Pearlislove



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Queenie is help, Seraphina need help, Unresolved Emotional Tension, this is really not happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/pseuds/Pearlislove
Summary: President Picquery is not okay, but is convinced she can't let anyone see it and does her best to hide it. But even she can only hide it for so long before the cracks start showing.Queenie notice, and is willing to risk her job to help.





	1. Seraphina's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter thing, lots of angst and Hurt/comfort, with Queenie and Seraphina Picquery. really, it doesn't have any more plot than that but it's past 6k written so far

“Would that be all?”

 

Graves voice reach her as if in slow motion, working it’s way through the mud that seem to be surrounding her senses and blocking out the outside world, and all she can think to respond is a simple question: what.

 

“What?” She hadn’t been listening, not in the slightest. She doesn’t know what he’s said, and though she knows she should have been listening intently to give him her ever so regal reply she simply hadn’t been able to focus. It hadn’t been a good day, and no matter how many cups of coffee and splashes of ice cold water to the face that she had, she couldn’t the muddy, isolating feeling blocking her senses and the buzzing static noise in her ears to go away. Eventually she stopped, resigning to the fact that it would have to do to pretend to be present.

 

Grave is looking at her with concern, taking her in from top to bottom as if he’s looking for a physical error, and when he doesn’t seem to find anything, he just sigh. Seraphina just smiled, held back and graceful as always. No one ever found a fault in her. “I said, would that be all, or is there anything else you wish for me to do?” His voice is cautious, and she can tell he is still worried. The idea sits wrong with her, making her frown, because after all, it had been he who’d be tortured by Grindelwald, not her, and it should be she who was worried. 

 

“Yes that will be all.” Careful to keep her voice leveled, she nods in confirmation. She hoped it would be all. She couldn’t actually remember a single word she’d said since she entered the Auror’s department, immediately heading for his desk at the back, and if it didn’t happen at least once every so often since a long time past she’d be worried about her own health. All she knew now was that whatever she had said that had been so important, had indeed been said, and she should leave.

 

“Miss President, with all due respect, are you alright?” Suddenly, graves i s raising from his chair, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. His fear has increased, na dhse wonder how long she’s been standing frozen at his desk for him to ask her if she was alright, even going as far as to put his hand on her shoulder!

 

“I am certainly fine,  _ Mister Graves _ , and I would appreciate if you had the decency to keep your hands to yourself!” For a split second, as she is pulling herself away from Grave’s grip and fleeing the Auror office with long, elegant steps, everything comes back into its crystal clear focus. Through the blazing anger she can see the other Aurors currently in office hiding behind their desks, and she can see Graves standing where she left him, dumbfounded and maybe even scared.

 

It feels  _ good _ , because it is how things are supposed to be. People were supposed to fear her, she was the whole damn MACUSA’s boss, for heaven's sake. If that did not warrant fearing her more than their own mother, then she didn’t know what.

 

As soon as she’s out of the Aurors office, smashing the door shut behind her for good measure, the adrenaline-fueled, crystal clear focus disappear. Everything became murky and vaguely floating, like she was suddenly under water. It made her feel alarmed, but she was afraid to linger. What if Graves was dumb enough to follow? What if one of the menial employees populating the corridors decided just like Graves that something was wrong? She needed to move. She needed to move.

 

The corridor before her seemed unimaginably wrong and so,so dark, but she moved anyway, willing her legs to work and her feets to pass across the wooden floor, one step at the time. She didn’t know what was going on with her head, and recognised that it was worse than usual, but she was at loss for what to do. If it got much worse she’d have to retire for the day due to one excuse or another, because waiting it out had always been the best tactic. She couldn’t keep walking around  in a daze, not remembering what she said or did. Her word held too much value for her to allow herself to use it without full control.

 

Suddenly, she is taking another forceful step forward with her left foot, but instead of getting the satisfying and somehow calming sound of the heel tapping against the floor, there’s a crack, and she’s flying backwards, limbs sprawled out in every direction as she tries not to land on her back on the floor.

 

She does, though. Hard. Her head bounced against the floorboards and even though the hole of her vision is spinning, making her nauseous even though she’s perfectly still, her entire vision is crystal clear as a blonde haired girl appear in it.

 

“President Picquery! Oh my god, are you okay?” The voice that drift toward her is sweet and high pitched, and she can see a blushing heart-shaped face framed by golden curls staring at her, concerned crystal blue eyes scanning her body for injuries. 

 

Seraphina realised that she needed to get up and away from the girl, lest she wanted to make a fool out of herself. As best she could, she cleared her throat. “ I’m quite fine, thank you. No need to let me interrupt your duties.” Despite the dangerous swaying of the world she rose to her feet, finding herself halting as one of her heels were broken off.

 


	2. Queenie's POV

Shocked and speechless, Queenie watched as the President of MACUSA rose from the floor, pulling away from Queenie’s arms holding onto her and clearing her throat. “I’m quite fine, thank you. No need to let me interrupt your duties.”

Queenie didn’t have to be a Legilimens to see that she was lying. The president was swaying unsteadily as she stood, almost tripping again as she took her first few steps away from Queenie, and, it seemed, first then realising the heel on her left shoe had been broken off, thus promoting her to fall backwards to begin with. As she watched the president taken another few unsteady steps, her hand coming up to her head and clutching it, she couldn’t take it anymore. It was more than likely that she’d gotten herself both bruised and concussed, and she needed help even if she was too proud to ask for it. 

“Madame, are you sure you are fine?” She asked carefully, trying to reach out for the woman's mind tentatively, but stopping before she even got close as she could literally feel the danger radiating off the other mind. It was as if it was a burning ember, still red hot and much too dangerous to touch. She had never felt anything like it, so she recoiled out of fear, getting her mental arms to retract and come back to her own mind.

Hearing her question, the other woman simply sigh. “I am fine, but if you could get someone to come to my office with a big cup of coffee, it would be very much appreciated.” Her voice was as regal and commanding as ever, and it was clear that everything but the essential command, bring me coffee, was mere pleasantries.

“Of course Ma’am. Right away.” She bowed her head, but knew the president didn’t see her as she finally decided to just take off the boots completely, walking in her sock only the rest of the way to the elevator and stepping inside.

Sighing to herself, she grabbed the luck warm cup of coffee intended for Mister Graves in the Auror office, which she had temporarily disposed of on a table, and went up to the door to said office. A man who was heading out held up the door for her and she smiled gratefully, aware that he caught a more than slight glimpse of her breasts as she ducked under his arm to get through the doorway, but considered no harm done since he still didn’t seem to have much on his mind beside counter-hexes to use on the kids next door to where he lived, and some paperwork that was due the following Friday. A good and decent fellow all the way through, it seemed. 

Quickly pacing onwards Queenie was soon as Percival Graves desk, the man himself unlike his employees barely notickng her presence until the cup landed on the table. “Your coffee, sir.” She smiled, but he mostly looked dissapointed.

“Took you long enoguh, Goldstein.” He commented irritably, his eyes gliding over to where Tina was surely sitting and watching them in the front left corner.

“I am very sorry, Sir, but I had to help President Picquery…”She started, but was quickly interrupted.

“You met the president? How was she?” Sudden concern washed over Mr.Graves senses, the strong and almost guilt-ridden feeling leaking through despite his strong and well-built mental walls. 

“She was fine, sir.” Queenie couldn’t figure out why she lied. It was something with the mans sudden concern, combined with the Presidents obvious issues that was more than enough reason for concern, that made her not want to tell. She could tell the president would not enjoy having Graves knocking on her door and questioning her health, and that she’d be in trouble if she found out it was because of herm “Do you know how she take her coffee? She asked me to make some for her.”

Now, it was Graves who looked surprised in stead, but only for a moment before his mask slid back into place, and he nodded decidedly. “Honey and sugar but no cream, if it's not her first cup of the day. She always take her first cup without anything at all.”

Queenie nodded, mentally memorising the order and figuring that it would hardly be the President's first cup as it was already past ten in the morning. “Thank you, sir.” She thanked him for the information and left. Her sister watched as she trudged out of the office, and she stopped in time to give her ahort hug, faking a big and satisfied smile before moving on.

As soon as she was out of the office door the fake smile disappeared, and instead it was reolaced by a deep frown. Queenie didn’t like frowning, it dug ugly lines in your skin, but she was truly worried for the president. She sure hoped everything would be alright by the time she brought her the large cup of coffee she’d asked for, making it as Graves instructed at the coffee station by the elevator, before quickly grabbing the mug and stepping into the lift.

“Where to, ma’am?” The house-elf asked, looking as though he definitely woke up on the wrong side. Though on the other hand, house-elves always seemed to look that way, so she doubted his mood was really any different from any other day.

“President Picquery’s office please, and hurry.” She hadn’t meant to tell him to hurry, too, but the sense of alarm that seeing her stumbling walk had started still hadn’t left her, and she simply wished to make sure she was okay as soon as possible. 

“Always do, girl.” The house-elf grumbled back, pulling the lever and setting them off towards the President's office at top speed, while Queenie prayed whatever was to meet her when she arrived wasn’t going to be dangerous.


	3. Seraphina POV

Seraphina really didn’t know what she was doing. Everything between the elevator and her office was missing, a big inky darkness spreading out where there should have been memories of her traveling in the elevator and stepping into her office, and the last thing she could remember was saying goodbye to the golden haired girl who’d found her after she fell in the corridor between the auror office and the elevator, before suddenly waking up, coming back to her senses and finding herself laying on the floor of her office, curled up like a small child.

 

With tears stinging in her eyes and fear coursing throughout her  entire body she managed to finally get up on her knees, crawling over to her desk and hiding behind it. She doesn’t know why she’s crashing like this, but it's certainly worse than her usual bad days where she doesn’t feel like she’s there at all, and have to fake her presence of mind all through the day, because there ain’t any way to fake being alright as she is right now.

 

_ I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here, I can’t stay here! _

 

Her mind is a huge potthole by now, and she is standing on the edge, fighting her fight and flight reflex and trying to pull herself toghther because for heaven's sake  _ she's the president of MACUSA  _ and she isn't allowed to act this way!

 

“Madame Picquery?” There’s a slight knock on the door, and it takes every ounce of self control she has left not to scream out of pure fear and surprise. 

 

She force herself to take a few deep breaths, reminding herself that everything is alright even though it doesn't feel like it and that no one can see her hiding behind the desk, the second a lot more comforting than the first, and then she shakily turn her head to look at the door.

 

Poking in through the doorway, is the blonde girl from before, who helped her off the floor when she was leaving the Auror’s department. She was holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and scanning the room, her blue eyes betraying obvious concern. “Ma’am, are you in here?”

  
  


She flinch at the kind, concerned tone of her voice, and she wants to stand up and show her that she is fine but doesn’t because she is not fine and what if she lose it again that girl was probably the kind of person who would run off and tell everyone she knew. She’d already seen her  fall on her butt she couldn’t give her anything more to gossip about.

 

Besides, she didn't even have a reason for hiding there. ‘I was just looking for a pen’, yeah likely story. She had to pretend to not be there.

 

Despite this decision, however, her legs moved on their own accord completely separate from her body (or her mind, she wasn't sure what connection between consciousness and body that was missing but something was) and ruse her to standing position, turning her around so she could face the employee.

 

“Madame Picquery!” The woman gasped. “There you are, I almost thought you’d went somewhere. I brought you your coffee!” She grins, holding up the steaming cup and walking over to her desk, placing it near Seraphina’s hand and making it easy for her to grab it.

 

She stared blankly at the cup. “My coffee, Miss…?” She stopped short, realising she didn’t know the name of the girl.

 

“Goldstein. Queenie Goldstein. You asked me to bring you a big cup of coffee.” Her, Queenie’s, smile quickly died out when she realised that the president didn’t remember asking for coffee, and Seraphina couldn't do anything but curse herself. This was why she had wanted to keep hiding behind her desk.

 

“Oh, yes, thanks Miss...Goldstein you said?” The name was itchy and familiar, but when she pictured it, all she produced was the picture of two different brown-haired women from two very different times in her life, and none of which even slightly resembled the peppy blonde before her. “Do you have a sister?”

 

At this, Queenie laughed, head thrown backwards as she let out the most adorable fit of giggles. “Yes, I do. Her name's Porpentina and she work is the Aurors department. Well she does now, she worked with me at wand permit for a while.”

 

_ Popertina _ . Now that made sense. She could see the serious,  dark eyed and dark haired girl before her, trying to explain herself and why she endangered the statute of secrecy, which she could conclude would have been the reason for her temporary demotion.

 

“Yes, I think I remembered that.” She cracked a slight smile. She felt proud at how well she was handling herself. She’d been on the verge of a breakdown, but had managed to pull back just a little so she could pretend to be okay in front of the menial employee. 

 

“Well, if there's nothing else, I think I’ll leave you alone,  _ your highness _ !” The last part was obviously a tease as she strutted out the door, but Seraphina felt it like a mental slap to the face, memories bubbling up from within and filling her already tired mind with picture of beautiful golden haired, white skinned girls in blue and pink dresses boarding a school buss as she sat in a ditch and watched it drive away, her little sister resting on her lap. Her parents, fearing for her early manifested and quite powerful abilities, had refused to let her go to a muggle school before she turned eleven and got her Ilvermorny letter. She remembered the porcelain white girls giving her dirty looks when they walked past, and all the times they’d show her, throw her to the ground and tell her to bow before them, to call them  _ her highness _ to show their white  superiority over the lovely dark skinned people. 

 

It had been so many years ago, and she’d tried to forget and forgive, but she could still hear the taunting voices of the girls and the strange cries of her tiny little sister who’d been thrown to the ground as well ringing in her ears, and she once more felt all the energy and control draining from her. It felt as though every tiems he got better, something threw her back to square one.

 

Slowly, staggering and trying not to fall, she sat down against her desk on the floor, closing her eyes and grabbing her ears to block out the world. It wasn’t helping her today.

 

 


	4. Queenie's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fianlly updating. Enjoy!

 

When Queenie came into Madame Picquery’s office, she’d been hiding behind her desk. It seems strange, even to Queenie, but she obviously had, because after the third time she’d called for her she’d rosen from behind it and she was convinced that she hadn’t been looking for a dropped pencil. And it was equally obvious that she was not doing alright, and that she was more than a little confused.

 

She hadn’t even remembered that she asked Queenie to make coffee for her, even though Queenie had arrived with the coffee within half an hour of her asking for it. There was no way she could have just _forgotten_ about it.

 

Still, despite the obvious concern Queenie held for her boss' well being, she carried a short and supposedly rather normal conversation with her before leaving, teasingly calling her _Her Highness_ as she went out the door and hoping that it would lighten the mood.

 

Even though she’s not in her mind she doesn’t miss how hurt Madame Picquery looks when she hears the words, and she realise the effect was not what she wanted, because she has hurt her, not made her feel better. It makes Queenie feel awful.

 

As soon as she was out of the office, she closed the door behind her and sigh, leaning against it. At that moment, she wished she was like her sister. Her sister, Porpentina, the proud Thunderbird with the strong soul and hardened heart, would have been able to walk away and continue with her day, ignoring that something was obviously wrong with their boss.

 

But Queenie couldn’t. The younger Goldstein sister, with her sharp and focused mind but big and open heart, the perfect Pukwudgie and a natural healer in more way than one, couldn't. It wasn’t in her nature and she wouldn’t,  regardless if the woman was her boss or not.

 

She had to help. But how?

 

Tentatively, Queenie tried to stretch out her mental tentacles that worked as extensions of her own conscious towards the President's mind, ready to draw back any minute as she still remembered the burning, red hot barriers protecting it last time she reached out.

 

It is not redhot when she touch it at last, in fact, there is no barriers at all. It make Queenie vary, wondering if it just means that it’s a trap for the enemy, that she doesn’t want people to see the barriers before they're crashing into them, or if something is wrong enough that she can’t even keep up the most basic defense anymore.

 

As Queenie continue to stretch out for her boss’s mind, she soon discover that there is indeed no basic protection at all, something in there having dragged her down to a level where she couldn’t even keep up a weak Occlumency  protection. She can walk right into her memories and feelings, seeing what’s being streamed in her brain at the moment.

 

_A tiny crying baby, blonde haired girls with taunting faces, pain, so much pain and darkness and confusion and a feeling of utter exhaustion_

 

She hear the scream of the president before she hear her own, and it take her but a moment to turn around and force the door open, rushing back inside. She never knew that her powers could hurt anyone, had never hurt anyone, but suddenly they were both screaming with pain and it was only barely that she could stifle hers once she notice them so no one that might be nearby will hear.

 

As she get inside the room, finally managing to push open the door after an eternity of fighting with the handles and she is faced with the most powerful woman in all of America, sitting down in front of her desk on the floor, eyes closed and hands over her ears and trying to block out the world. Her lips are slightly parted and the physical scream has gone over to a silent, mental one.

 

Quickly, Queenie push the door closed behind her. She can imagine the fear the woman sitting on the floor would feel, if anyone was to see her, and beside Queenie herself who already knew she couldn’t unsee and could never pretend to not have seen, she didn't want to let anyone in.

 

“Madame Picquery.” Queenie try to keep her voice loud and strong, but the silence that follow is deafening, and she suck in a shallow, uncertain breath of air. “Seraphina.” It was bold to use her boss's first name, and it might very well cause her to get fired, but if it could get even the slightest reaction out of the other woman consequences be damned.

 

As soon as the name passed her , the other woman’s head jerk upwards, eyes opening and staring at her, their dark depth reflecting an almost childish fear, and as Queenie tried to approach, she pulled back, eyes widening in alarm.

 

“Don’t hurt me!” Her voice is light and childish, too, and somehow Queenie get the feeling that she not mentally all there, because she can see her eyes widening even further in surprise at her own voice.

 

“I’m not hurting you...Seraphina. I want to help.” Gently, she sit down beside the other woman, pulling her hands away from her ears and keeping them in her own. Their chocolate brown colour stood in stark difference to the milky white colour of Queenie’s, and Queenie wondered exactly what she’d have to experience to that very difference.

 

Queenie had been raised not to see a difference between colours, but between hearts and souls. To accept those who were good, and reject those who weren't, regardless of appearance. But in school, Queenie had befriended a girl from out south, close to Savannah, who’d told of the differences there, who had feared Queenie before she understood what kind of difference that Queenie made and didn't.

 

She wondered if their president, if this, the most powerful of all people, had grew up with difference in heart or skin.

 

“No one can help. No one should help.” The sudden mumble  is so weak and sudden, that Queenie almost miss it. When she look in the President's eyes, the fear is gone, but their is something else instead, a vary tiredness from someone who had too big a weight resting on her shoulders.

 

“I can, and I will.” She doesn’t think, she just stretch out her arms and wrap the around the President's shoulders. They're trembling terribly, and it only further encourage Queenie to continue, pulling her boss into a big, tight hug. The other woman was even sitting taller than her, but it didn’t matter as she burrowed her head into Queenie’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.” She is firm, reassuring because she is sure the other woman need it.

 

President or not, everyone could need someone to lean on.

 

“I will help you!


End file.
